on the day that didn’t snow


i had a dream in the early hours

of looking out a window and

seeing pale frost-flecks falling; of

dancing with blurs of my father

and putting my mother to bed.

upon waking, i traveled through

centuries of stories — of weeping

and laughing and wishing; sad-strong

thinking pushed me up a mountain

where i sought an open sky

i didn’t know i was seeking:

a long stretch of billowing light —

fading blues; fleeting pinks and

golds beyond capturing; sight-

less wonder holding its breath.

i kept walking toward what i could

not touch — toward the infinite

arm touching me. i kept longing

to climb-crawl right into the sky.



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